"You don't want to know." He took one of the cups and walked back to Mattie, who sat under a large pin oak, his knees now drawn up to his chest and secured with his arms. Father Hailey had just walked away, his own cup of lemonade in hand.
Rachel watched as Noah attempted to give Mattie the cup, and when he didn't accept it, Noah placed it on the ground beside him and walked back to Rachel.
"What's going on with Mattie?" she asked.
"I don't know." Noah shrugged as they both studied him for a moment. "He seemed fine a few minutes ago. Almost as if he was having fun. He downed the last cup of lemonade before I had mine to my lips."
With a sigh, Rachel turned back to face the colorful inflated amusement. "I can take over here if you want to wander around, say hi to some people."
"Nah. I'd rather just stay here. I don't mind hanging out with Mallory and Mattie. Besides, it gives me something to do other than watch people watch me." He shook his head "I swear, they look at me like they think I'm going to whip out an axe from my back pocket and start smiting them hip and thigh at any moment." He took the tray from her hands, removed a cup, and offered it to her before taking the last one.
"Oh, they do not. Joshua walked right up and started talking to you."
"That's because he wants me to come to church. I think he's thinking he can still possibly save my soul." He tossed the cardboard tray into the grass. "I'll take that back by the stand in a minute. They can use it again."
Rachel sipped the icy lemonade that seemed to be all the colder and more delicious in the heat of the afternoon. It had to be close to eighty degrees outside today. "Hey, guess who I saw a minute ago. Ellen Hearn." She had no intention of telling him she'd talked to Jeremy, too. Or that she'd sort of agreed to go out with him.
"You're kidding. I'd love to have said hello."
"I know. She said to tell you hi. She was on her way out. Had somewhere she had to be." She sipped her lemonade. "Did I tell you she was appointed a judge two years ago? Superior Court."
"You're kidding. Good for her."
"I know. It was what she always wanted."
"She doesn't live here anymore, does she?"
"Actually, she still does. Part of the time, at least. She's got a condo at the beach, too, though. Says she stays there some nights. Here others."
Noah nodded. "I'm glad to hear she's doing so well. She's a good woman. A good woman for the job, too."
A kitchen timer went off, and Harry Newton, who worked at the hardware store in town, got up from his lawn chair in the shade, walked over to the bouncer, and stuck his head inside. "Time's up," he announced.
A cacophony of childish oh no's and groans came from inside as the red white, and blue blow-up bouncer came to a standstill and one by one, kids began to hop out, with the assistance of the grandfatherly Harry.
Rachel had always liked Harry and his wife, Flora. They were good-hearted hard-working people who always gave freely of themselves. Rachel had once attended a Bible study with them at St. Paul's and had formed a bond with them that never quite faded, though she had rarely seen them in the last five years. Sadly, their youngest son, now in his mid-thirties, had never molded to the Newton family values or morals as his parents and older siblings had. A late-in-life baby, as Flora had liked to call him, Skeeter drank, was involved in drugs, and never seemed able to hold a job for more than a few months at a time. He lived in an apartment over his parents' garage, and she knew both Harry and Flora worried about him, wondered where they had gone wrong in raising him. It was sad to see such kind people suffer so greatly at the hands of someone they loved.
"Got plenty more tickets, kiddies," Harry jovially told the children. "Ask your parents for more money. Tell 'em it's for a good cause. I'll be sitting right here waiting for you."
"Oh please, Harry." Rachel rolled her eyes. "No wonder this is one of the best moneymakers for the whole day," she told Noah, meaning for Harry to overhear. "Harry's practically blackmailing us."
The older man winked at her and offered a hand to the youngest Truman boy.
"I know." Noah passed her his cup, moving toward the open doorway in anticipation of Mallory's exit. "It's a miracle I didn't promise Harry next year's profits from the vineyard." He flashed a grin at Harry, who was still taking in their conversation with good cheer.
"You gettin' a lotta work done with that machete I sold you?" Harry asked Rachel.
"Putting me to work with it is more like it." Noah clapped his hands together. "Mallory," he called in a singsong voice. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."
"No Mallworys in here," Mallory sang in the same tone from inside.
"Get your butt out here," Noah ordered in a fatherly tone.
Mallory's head popped out at once, and with a leap, she landed on the ground in her stocking feet. "That was fun! Can I do it again? Can I? Can I?"
Noah squatted down in front of her, getting at eye level. He reached out with one hand to brush aside a damp, sweaty lock of blond hair that had escaped one of her pigtails. "How about a little lemonade and a quick rest?"
"I don't need a rest!"
"Well, I do." Noah gave her a push in Mattie's direction. "Mattie has your sneakers and some lemonade. You have some and then see if you can get him to drink a little. It's hot out."
"Hot out! Hot out!" Mallory bounced past Rachel, headed for the shade of the tree and the cup of lemonade.
* * *
At four, after the announcement of several raffle ticket winners and a warning that the silent auction would soon be closed to bids, everyone broke into groups to share their picnic dinner with friends or relatives. Rachel passed out paper plates to her odd little family—her daughter, Noah the ex-con, and the idiot savant who couldn't speak or read music but could play a pipe organ without ever having taken a lesson in his life.
They shared Mrs. Santori's fried chicken, spiced with chili powder and cumin, pasta salad Rachel had made, and an assortment of cut-up vegetables and fruit. One drumstick and a few pieces of cantaloupe and Mallory had had enough of sitting on the blanket listening while Rachel and Noah discussed the necessary steps to be ready to start making wine in late August.
"Can Mattie and me go to the bouncy-bounce?" Mallory asked as her mother wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Mattie and I." Noah reached for his lemonade. "And no, it's closed right now. Mr. Harry is having his dinner, fortifying himself for another round with you munchkins."
"Can Mattie and—I go ride the pony?"
"Pony is having his dinner, too." Noah, lying on his side, stretched out on the old quilt that had once belonged to Rachel's grandmother, reached for another piece of chicken. "You and Mattie need to hang around here for a little while and then, I promise, you'll get another pony ride and another bounce before we go home."
Mallory looked to her mother, hoping, no doubt, she would give in, but Rachel just smiled apologetically. "Why don't you and Mattie see if you can find any bugs while we finish up here?"
"Come on, Mattie." Mallory trudged off, head down, doing her best to look pitiful. "Wet's find some bugs."
Mattie just sat on the quilt, his knees drawn up. He'd barely touched his dinner.
"Come on, Mattie," Mallory repeated impatiently. "You don't have to be afraid of it. I'wll protect you." She held out her hand.
Mattie rose slowly, accepted her hand, and the two ambled off.
"Not too far," Rachel called after them. "If you can't see me, you're too far away."
Rachel watched them go twenty feet and then plop down under a small red maple tree where Mallory had discovered dandelion flowers. "He barely ate," she remarked to Noah.
"And what in heaven's name is Mallory talking about? What's Mattie afraid of?"
"I don't know. I asked her again yesterday." Noah tossed a thigh bone on his plate and reached for his napkin.
In celebration of the day, Rachel had packed real cloth napkins from the mismatched assortment she kept in a drawer in the kitchen ch
ina closet. There was always something special about a meal when you used real napkins, even if it was a picnic meal on the lawn of a house that cared for teenaged girls who had gotten knocked up by their boyfriends.
"She just says he's afraid of the voice. Or of voices." He shrugged. "It doesn't make much sense, but she's four."
Rachel thought of the nightmare she'd had the previous night. For the first time, whatever the dark thing was that was plaguing her had possessed a voice. She'd woken in a cold sweat, disoriented and unable to remember what the dream had been about or what the thing had said. She could remember nothing, but there was no doubt in her mind that it had been accompanied by a voice this time.
She thought about the picture Mattie had colored this morning—the red, angry blob in the middle of all the black. As crazy as it sounded, something told her it was the voice of that blob that she had heard. Was Mattie hearing it in his dreams at night, too?
"Hey," Noah said gently. His hand brushed her arm. "You OK?"
She refocused her gaze, first on him, then Mallory. "Yeah. Fine." She offered a quick smile.
Mallory was seated in the grass, legs spread wide, with Mattie seated beside her. She was trying to tie the stems of two dandelions together.
"You sure you're feeling OK?" Noah persisted.
"It's not my health you should be worried about right now." She sat up on her knees and began to pack away what was left of their dinner. "I'm calling Monday to get you an appointment with Dr. Carson."
"Fine."
"I'm not kidding, Noah. You're going." She snapped the blue plastic lid on the disposable container that Mrs. Santori insisted they use again and again, and dropped it into the picnic basket. "This isn't something you screw around with. This could be serious. No one has blackouts five years after—"
"Rachel," Noah interrupted.
His tone made her glance down at him.
"I said I would go," he said gently. "If you want me to go, I'll go. I'll do it for you."
Her gaze was locked with his for a moment. She couldn't look away. He would do it for her. To alleviate her concern. The sound of his voice, the words, made her heart give a little trip. It had been a long time since anyone had done something solely for her benefit. To ease her mind.
"You should do it for yourself, not me," she said getting to her feet, grabbing the stack of dirty paper plates. "I'm going to toss these."
"I'll do it."
She turned away from him. "I should check on Mallory anyway."
Rachel walked over to a rolling green trash Dumpster near the porch and lifted the lid to toss the plates in.
"Aren't you concerned?" a woman asked.
Rachel lowered the lid to see Cora on the porch, seated between Clara and Alice, all in old-fashioned lawn chairs. She looked like the queen to Rachel, perched there on the porch on her aluminum throne with her attendants, looking down on the townsfolk, her loyal subjects.
"Pardon?" Rachel half smiled not even positive Cora was speaking to her. She had been an excellent secretary, serving Noah well for years, but Rachel had never taken a liking to her, and she couldn't even specifically say why. Sure, she was a gossip and Rachel didn't care for gossips, but her talk was usually harmless. There was something else that had always bothered her about Cora, something she could never quite put her finger on.
"That man, alone with your daughter." Cora rose, coming to the porch rail, pointing over Rachel's head.
Rachel turned to look in Mallory's direction. She assumed Cora was speaking of Noah, but it was Mattie who was still with Mallory. Mallory had tied several yellow dandelion flowers together into a crown and was placing it on Mattie's head.
"You mean Mattie?" Rachel turned back to Cora, puzzled.
"Yes, I mean Mattie." Cora leaned over the railing to whisper in a conspiratorial tone. "A full-grown man playing with a little girl. It's just not natural," she said in a stage whisper.
"Mattie?" Rachel looked at Cora as if she were crazy. She wasn't in the mood for this, not today. "Miss Cora, Mattie has been living with me since Rachel was born. He was there when I came home from the hospital. He would never harm Mallory. He'd never harm anyone. I can't even get him to swat flies in the kitchen."
Rachel heard Alice whisper to Clara, but she couldn't quite catch what she was saying. Rachel looked at Cora again. "I don't know what you're inferring by saying it isn't natural, but Mattie loves Mallory. He's loved her since she was a baby."
"But she's not a baby anymore." Cora cut her eyes in Mattie and Mallory's direction. "She's starting to look like a little girl. So pretty with that blond hair and big green eyes." She looked back at Rachel. "You just don't know what a man like that could be thinking about a pretty little girl like your Mallory."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Rachel declared, not caring if she was short with her. "And it's totally inappropriate for you to say. For you to even think."
"I'm sorry, dear. I certainly didn't mean to offend." Cora drew back, crossing her arms over her bright pink and green flowered blouse, not appearing to be the least bit apologetic. "It's just that a young mother like yourself, a young single mother, has so much to worry about."
"Well, if there's one thing I don't have to worry about, it's Mattie being with Mallory." She smiled stiffly. "Have a good evening, Miss Cora. Ladies." She nodded to Alice and Clara and stalked back to Noah, still lying on the quilt. "Are you ready to go home, because I'm ready to go."
He was on his feet in a second. "You all right?" He put his arm around her shoulder, glancing in the Bread Ladies' direction.
She removed her sunglasses, pressing her forefinger and thumb to her temples, closing her eyes. "I'm fine, I just—my head hurts. I'm not sleeping at night and I—" She didn't know what to say. How to explain to Noah everything that was going on in her head. It wasn't just what Cora had said, or how worried she was about Mattie, or about Noah's blackouts. It was everything... and something more. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Something oppressive here today.
"Just let me get this packed up and we'll go." Noah gave her a quick hug and released her.
Rachel wished the hug had lasted just a little longer. "No. I'm being silly." She opened her eyes, putting her sunglasses back on. "We promised Mallory another pony ride and one more trip to the bouncy thing."
"If you don't feel well, we'll go home anyway. Mallory will be fine."
"No, it's all right, really. Besides, we can't leave until we know what we won in the silent auction."
"With our luck, it'll be the wine basket we brought," he teased as he began to fold up the dirty napkins scattered on the quilt. "Or the surfing lesson gift certificate."
Rachel dropped to her knees beside him to give him a hand. "I just bid on them to raise the prices," she defended. "I bid on a bunch of things."
He chuckled. "I'm telling you, we're going to end up with that basket." He tucked the napkins into the picnic basket. "And the surf lessons."
"Surf lessons would be OK." She smiled at him across the expanse of the quilt, already feeling better. She didn't know what was wrong with her, getting so worked up over something Cora had said. Anything Cora said. "You always said you'd like to learn to surf."
"Oh no." He pointed a finger. "We win the lessons, I pay, you surf. I'd pay good money to see that, for sure."
She threw a dirty napkin at him, hitting him in the face, and they both laughed. And the laughter between them felt so good. It felt so right that even the terrifying nameless voice in Rachel's dream couldn't, at this moment, make her feel anything but hopeful for what the next day would bring.
Chapter 17
Noah carried Mallory, asleep in his arms, into the kitchen, and Rachel followed behind them with a wine basket, a gift certificate for surfing lessons, and a new picnic basket identical to the one still sitting in the back of the Volvo, filled with dirty containers and napkins.
"Mattie go to his room?" Noah asked quietly, heading down the
hall toward the staircase.
"Umm-hmm. I told him I'd check on him before I went to bed, but I wanted Mallory tucked in first."
Noah took the steps slowly, not wanting to jostle Mallory and wake her. Besides, he wanted to make this moment last as long as he could. She felt so good in his arms, smelling of baby shampoo, lemonade, and chocolate. Asleep, she appeared so angelic, with her halo of blond hair and pursed rosebud lips, surrounded by brownie crumbs. The truth was that holding Mallory in his arms made him feel like a man again. Rachel's allowing him to carry the little girl to bed made him feel as if he was capable of caring for someone other than himself.
"You get Mallory tucked in," Noah told Rachel softly, "and I'll check on Mattie and bring in the picnic basket. This isn't the time of year you want chicken bones sitting in the back of your car all night."
Rachel reached around him, flipping on the hall light as they reached the top of the stairs. "You sure?"
"Yup."
Rachel pushed Mallory's bedroom door open for him and let him pass her. Noah had seen Mallory's room from the hall before but had never come inside. It wasn't his place to come into her room. At least he had never felt it was before.
The bedroom, dimly lit by a whimsical lamp with a cone shade and pink tulle billowing off the top, was a magical place any little princess would have loved to rest her weary head. Everywhere Noah saw not only Rachel's artistic ability but her love for her child. The room was painted lavender and pink, and on one wall was a medieval fairy tale scene, complete with prancing horses and pink fairies. Mallory's unmade bed was covered in pink and white gingham sheets and a puny, lavender satin quilt.
Noah laid her down gently, her head on the pillow. "There we go, sweetheart," he murmured. And without thinking, he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
Realizing what he had done, fearing he had crossed some invisible line Rachel had drawn in the sand he stood up, looking over his shoulder at her. But Rachel was just standing there in the shadows, arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning either. He passed her on his way to the hall. "I'll be in, in a minute. Anything else you need me to do besides check on Mattie and unload the car?"
Unspoken Fear Page 20
